


Spring

by Amymel86



Series: Jonsa Drabblefest May 2020 [11]
Category: A Song of Ice and Fire & Related Fandoms, A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Drabble, F/M, Pregnant Sansa, Queen Sansa, jonsa drabblefest, short fic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-14
Updated: 2020-05-14
Packaged: 2021-03-03 04:27:06
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 445
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24188884
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Amymel86/pseuds/Amymel86
Summary: He should kneel when he’s finally before her; should pay his respects to the Queen in the North. But he cannot. He can barely keep his wits about him to address her properly. She is round with child now, new life growing beneath the brocade of her dress and the silk of her fine shift. He does not know what he wishes to stare at the longer; the welcoming curve of her lips or the swelling of her belly.
Relationships: Jon Snow/Sansa Stark
Series: Jonsa Drabblefest May 2020 [11]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1738762
Comments: 12
Kudos: 175
Collections: Jon x Sansa Drabble





	Spring

The Wall is still bone cold but Jon leaves it looming at his back. It will be there when he returns, for return he must. Spring’s touch does not reach so far north, but the further he rides, the more signs of new life Jon encounters, first snowdrops and then daffodils. When he finally reaches Winterfell, he’s already ridden through woodlands with carpets of lavender bluebells.

He should kneel when he’s finally before her; should pay his respects to the Queen in the North. But he cannot. He can barely keep his wits about him to address her properly. She is round with child now, new life growing beneath the brocade of her dress and the silk of her fine shift. He does not know what he wishes to stare at the longer; the welcoming curve of her lips or the swelling of her belly.

“Who do the lords suspect is the father?” he asks when he seeks her out in her chambers. He wants to touch her, put his hands on her, remembers that one night when she’d begged him a favour.

The smile she gives is knowing. “I tell them my child was sired by a wolf.”

“And they have not guessed?”

“Let them play their guessing games, it makes no difference to me.” Her hand strokes over the curve of her stomach. “I have what I want, you gave it to me.”

Jon wets his lips, nods his head at the babe – his babe. “May I?” His hands are already reaching for her before she even gives her approval.

Her belly is firm and Sansa slots her hands over his, humming and smiling. “A spring babe,” she says wistfully. “The Maester says they’re healthy.”

When he glances up at her it’s as though he’d only just now realised they were so close. He could smell the scent of jasmine oil she dots behind her earlobe, could count the faint splatter of freckles across her nose. Her rosy lips part and he remembers kissing them that night – does she remember too? Does she recall how he’d tried to make it good for her? How he’d confessed his dirty sins into the opal skin of her throat?

Jon remembers it all. He rocks forward without thought, catching himself on an inhale, removing his hands from her all too soon. He’s given her what she wanted – a babe – that’s all she needs from him.

“You should stay,” she says, blinking at him. “Welcome your baby to the world.”

Oh the ache that induces. “I don’t think that –“

She’s turning from him already, gazing out the window. “Then we can work on you giving me another.”


End file.
